Always a Bigger Fish
by DaLintyMan
Summary: No matter how powerful you are, how many planets you hold... There is always someone better.
1. Chapter 1

Screw all the prologue crap. Now, pay attention.

_**THIS PROLOGUE ISN"T MINE.**_

It's from another author, Archon of Darkness, and his story Phantoms of the Present. And I liked his backstory, so I'll use it. But it's technically his property, but he doesn't answer PMs...

The Sector was not the same as it had been 25 years earlier. To understand how the meeting went so differently than it would have during the Second Great War, or even the Brood War, one would have to look at its history.

For one, the Second Great War was long over, as was the long struggle between Raynor's Raiders and the Terran Dominion. Emperor Mengsk's precious Dominion was already burning to ashes around him once evidence surfaced that he had ordered the massacre on Tarsonis. The dissolution of Mengsk's propaganda with the salvation of the Queen of Blades was the final nail in the coffin, from the political standpoint.

Militarily, the Dominion did not fall for nearly two years. It fell to pieces with the start of the Hybrid War. With all of the turmoil going on within the former empire, the Dominion could not even mount a proper defense of the core worlds. Korhal itself was taken within weeks, and the Emperor was forced to flee. For the second time, Korhal was burned to ashes by an orbiting fleet, though this fleet consisted of pseudo Xel'naga ships instead of battlecruisers.

The remaining worlds of the shattered Dominion, as well as the remnants of the Kel-morian Combine and the Umojan Protectorate, looked to James Raynor for salvation.

And he delivered.

At each of the planets in need, Raynor's Raiders appeared in a sight that had never been seen before, and has never been seen since.

He came with Protoss ships and Zerg swarms in tow, both as allies.

The Hybrids, powerful as they were, and relatively numerous as they were, could not stand against the combined might of three races. Terran ingenuity and wit, Protoss power, and Zerg adaptability joined together and pushed back each of the Hybrid fleets. They drove them back to the planet where the Dark Voice himself resided, Zhakul.

The library world died in a raging storm of lightning, fire, and blood. The fallen Xel'naga himself was slain by the Dark Prelate, Zeratul.

Surprisingly many survivors of all three races were left. It was up to them to pick up the pieces.

The Zerg did not stay for long. Kerrigan sent a cryptic message to the _Hyperion_, Raynor's flagship, (the contents of which are unknown to any who did not serve aboard that ship to this day) and fled. Every last living Zerg disappeared with her. It was a sad day indeed for the hunters on Mar Sara, as even the Zerg buried there vanished, with the only trace of their presence being discarded carapace and abandoned, buried dens. To this day, not an iota of Zerg activity has been seen in the Koprulu sector since that day.

The Protoss were truly diminished, with nearly 10% more of their population dead. With only 20% of their once vast empire still intact, they sought to return to their homeworld of Aiur, which had been abandoned by the Zerg.

The Protoss' sense of pride had been completely and utterly shattered by what had happened. A human had become the savior of their race, but their empire was in ruins and few of their people remained. What was left of their race had nothing left but broken spirits.

The Terrans were little better off. All three of the Koprulu sector's nations had fallen, not that they were really missed. The Kel-morians and Dominion had been especially cruel to their citizens.

Many looked for an answer from Raynor himself, but none came. Instead, the captain of his flagship, Matthew Horner, stepped forward. At a convention of ambassadors from nearly every major planet in the sector, he proposed the formation of a single, overarching republic of planets, the United Systems. It would be ruled, not by a single person, but by the people. Though a President would lead the nation, he would be chosen by the people, and his power would be limited by the Interplanetary Senate, which, in turn, was made up of elected officials from each of the System worlds. In honor of the lives lost in the first Great War, the planet Tarsonis was chosen as the capital of the new nation. Korhal, on the other hand, became what Tarsonis had once been. No resettlement operation was undertaken. Instead, only salvaging operations found there way there. A statue of some of the Raiders' senior commanders was made from the cannibalized scrap of the former Emperor Mengsk's palace. It stands in front of the Senate building in New Gettysburg, the capital of Tarsonis and, by extension, the entire United Systems.

The Hybrid War had changed both the Terrans and the Protoss. They had all fought alongside each other, even died alongside each other. Each now had respect for the abilities of the other. The Terrans lended what aid they could to Aiur's people. The Protoss, in turn, accepted the help, something none of them had ever done (or needed to have done) before.

Okay, this is my few sentences.

Now, the United Systems would renew their search into deep space-

-and find their distant cousins. The galaxy wasn't as empty as they had thought.

To ascertain the situation, as well as locate new deposits of liberium crystals (name for the blue crystals by Guardian54), science vessels were escorted to nearby systems.


	2. Chapter 2

Please, review. It doesn't help if all you do is follow or favorite.

And learning what you think helps me write better. And faster.

**Aboard Science Vessel Amerigo**

**Beta Bar**

The scene would have been normal for most planets: a half dozen off duty military personnel, deeply involved in their card game. The dealer was a fairly skinny boy, with the insignia of the SCV drivers who were on board. He was wearing a CMC-150 Light Armor's helmet, probably to help spot cheaters.

The dealer threw out another set of five cards, and Timbre Holt swept them up into his hand. The two Marines across from him both took a few seconds, then folded. The wraith pilot to his left dropped two cards, and was dealt two more. The other two people at the table weren't actually playing, but watching anyways. Seeing his cards, Timbre grinned.

Down in the hangar, Chief Mechanic David was supervising the repair of one of the loaded Viking fighters. Three mechanics were poking and prodding the machine, pulling off sub-par armor plating, checking the internal circuitry, and then replacing the stripped panels with newly fabricated parts. One of the SCV drivers hovered up to him.

"That's the last of it. The only thing left is to call the pilot down and test it."

David nodded, causing the SCV to bob a bit. "Well, this is important to do soon, as we only have thirty minutes in the shift, I know him, and he's off duty..."

The other pilot laughed, and winked his green status light.

Timbre stormed into the hangar, already knowing who he would see. Two SCVs were doing nothing fast, and one had the distinctive painting of his friend: yellow dappled pattern (like the shadows you see from water) on the standard blue undercoat. Seeing that the pilot had noticed them, the two mechanics hovered over.

"Why?" The viking pilot asked in a tone of long suffering. David popped the canopy of his small mech, so he could grin at the pilot.

"Well, the repairs are finished, and the fighter needs to be tested." Timbre gave him a flat look in return.

"You could have waited until I was back on duty! After a few weak hands, I had finally come into a streak, and then you had to call me down here!" David shook his head in response, with a small smirk refusing to be squashed. Timbre covered his eyes with his palms. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it? Fine. I'll just go get suited up to fly the fekking machine then."

About fifteen minutes later, Timbre came back into the hangar, frowning downwards. "I swear, this suit gets tighter every edition." He mutters, as he walks past the scheming mechanics, who crack up, and then start hooking up their mechs into the ships power grid.

"Timbre, don't spend to long, I want to report on the repair status before my shift ends!"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Just remember that I have the better job, and the bigger guns!" Timbre shouted back.

After shimmying up the rope ladder into the variable mech, Timbre landed on his piloting chair. However, his chair was the specialized Axe variant, which allowed him to control the fighter via his own nervous system interfacing with the systems in his suit, nervous interface, and the matching systems in the chair.

Now, he felt the Viking A2 Mechanical Hybrid as if it was part of his body. Raising his "arms," he made a fist, and felt the guns spin up. Remembering where he was, he let them whir down.

"Weapon servos, functioning normally." Timbre relayed to the mechanics, then did a quick, conventional diagnostic. "All systems green, missile racks and ammunition reserves at 5 percent capability." That translated to two missiles and about a thousand rounds of 10mm armor piercing spikes. Of course, the fighter had extensive nano-fabricator storage units, and so could hold the massive amounts of conventional weaponry it would carry into battle.

Suddenly, a call came over the intercom.

"Prepare for warp transit! All hands, prepare for warp jump!"

Swearing, the Viking pilot walked his vehicle into the storage area, where smart cables latched onto specific points, to prevent any damage from being jostled.

**On the Bridge**

**Science Vessel Amerigo**

**About ten minutes prior**

The bridge was quiet. Unlike a battlecruiser, a science vessel didn't have one comprehensive command room. Instead, each section had it's own area, with the captain taking one of them as the Flag Deck, usually Navigation.

The current captain was named Gerard DeGaulle, and was always dressed in his uniform in public. He looked over the Flag Deck with his prosthetic eyes.

Even though the wars had ended, mostly, in the Koprulu Sector, there were still jobs available for qualified personnel. Taking command of a privately funded expedition comprised of two Minotaurs and a science vessel.

A brief clattering came from his left, as one of the crewman on the Defense CIC knocked over a stack of datapads. So there may be some disadvantages to taking a civilian command, Gerard mused. He turned as he heard someone approach. When he saw who it was, his face hardened. Deletra Kahn was the lead researcher of this site, but was rather abrasive at times, and kept to many secrets, in Gerard's opinion.

"The last scan is complete, and we are ready to send the signal." He told her, and her eyes lit up.

"Then let's get on it cowboy! Why we standing around?" She was actually bouncing now.

If he had been less dignified, Gerard would have facepalmed.

"Because we have no idea what we're dealing with. This construct," he gestured at the holographic representation of what looked a bit like those alien (Covenant from Halo) weapons, "is unlike anything we have seen. The gravity field around it is twisted, and that's when it is _inactive_. What will it do when we turn it on?"

Oddly, that just fired her enthusiasm.  
"That's why we're finding out!" She then turned to the console, seeing the two escorts hovering to the left and right of the civilian craft. "Manticore, you are clear to engage."

The Manticore initiated a short warp "hop" to the construct, and began bombarding it with radiation, to see if it would get a response. To the surprise of very few, the empty socket of the construct powered up, and filled with blue light.

Then a tendril of that light extended, grabbed the Minotaur, and propelled it forwards, although it looked to have simply vanished.

Gerard nodded to Deletra. "That's why we don't poke what we don't know." His gruff voice seemed to startle her from her surprise, and she started to reply, looking flustered.

"Manticore to Amerigo, come in Amerigo." The voice of the Manticore's captain sounded smug. "We're alive, and atop the booty. yar."

Gerard crossed to the console that was speaking to them. "Manticore, it's good to see you made it. Next time, let's see if we can plan a little bit more. Now, to business. What is your location?"

A few grunts came over. "Sorry, sir. Umm, about eighteen lightyears coreward of where we were. That thing must be a transportation unit, paired up with another one over here. Sir, we need to tell the Senate about another hyperadvanced alien race out here."  
That bombshell left everyone on the Flag Bridge stunned.

"Well." Deletra recovered first. "Let's go see what they found, shall we?"

The Manticore's captain chuckled. "A whole planet of slavers."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Now for some background support...

**Planet Tarsonis**

**Blue Office**

New Gettysburg. The city that never slept. Snarkier people would say that it's the barracks for the nearby military bases, the orbital shipyards, and the corporate headquarters. The Senate building lay in the heart of the downtown district, where the surrounding skyscrapers gave good cover from prying eyes.

The city proper held nearly eight million people, housed in towering spires.

The Presidential Commons crouched in front of the Senate's dome shaped building. The Commons looked like the old pictures of the American White House. Well, before it had been destroyed shortly before the colony ships had left Earth...

President White straightened his suit, and walked into the two black armored Marines flanking the door closed the thick, reinforced material, blocking out the media people. The President's eyes narrowed when he saw the three corporate executives.

The first two were dressed in standard suits, even if they were expensive. The women, however, was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. Each also had a logo on their left shoulder: three slanted stripes over a square.

"Why are the three leaders of Myfree in my office? You better not be being sued again. And it isn't about the new taxes, they passed three days ago."

The woman looked at him levelly.

"No, it's about salvage rights." The President raised an eyebrow. The last time these individuals had asked, it had been after their PMCs had leveled a pirate base.

The woman caught the look of exasperation on his face, and had the sense to look ashamed. "Yes, it's like that time." She admitted. "But these were alien slavers!"

The President did a double take, while even the Marine guards moved a few centimeters.

"A-aliens?" White sat down, feeling weak. The woman winced.

"Yes. The planet they were on was a perfect candidate for seeding. And, well, they ARE slavers. It would be an act of humanitarianism." She checked a datapad. "And the attack has begun." She finished softly.

Bridge of Dread-class Battlecruiser Greed

Gerard was in his element. Having led several combat ops against pirates, he was suited for this role. He was standing in front of the wall screen on the "rear" of the room, with his back to the low noises of the crewmen doing their job. Three 501st guards were at parade rest at strategic locations, their white armor reflecting the series of lights at the consoles.

A slight bump came as the Greed came out of warp a few thousand miles from the planets. The scanners quickly swept up information, and updated the Strategic Interface.

"Fourteen corvettes, thirty transport analogues, two frigates, and a few geo-sync sats. Each one is giving off the gravity distortions that the construct had." The man at the sensor station coolly called out all the contacts that in-system.

Gerard noted the locations of the cruisers, and calculated several intercepts for the Minotaurs in the fleets.

"Send a surrender demand. I don't want to come across as a war mongering barbarian. Be sure to state why we are here." Gerard ordered, and the three comm techs hopped to it.

"Commodore DeGaulle, the first wave of fighters have left the fleet's hangars. Enemy transport-analogues are either fleeing towards another construct pointing into interstellar space or heading for Target Alpha's orbit."

"Micro jump Squadron 3 to deal with the transports moving towards the construct." The three Minotaurs flashed away. "Move the rest of the fleet into a dome facing the planet, with the transports in the hole behind us. Send in Black and Red Wings in a pincer movement to surround the defenders."

Jarka was having a bit of a bad day. First, his ship got caught in a crossfire between an asari customs frigate and a turian smuggler. Then, he had been told that his cargo was no longer wanted, and he had been forced to come back to Kharan for repairs. He was reclining in a couch, a good proper one from Thessia, and was drinking some alcoholic drink from the last merchant ship they had taken when his omni-tool bleeped.

"Wharan, you better have not plugged the toilet again." He muttered darkly, before opening the connection.

"Holy mother of- captain, get up here now. Unknowns in system, and they aren't friendly." Jarka blanched. A First Contact? Here? Especially a hostile one...

He bolted for the bridge. Before he could reach it, he was thrown sideways, and everything went black.

Timbre whooped over the radio as the three antimatter missiles his flight had fired detonated on the hulls of two transports, shattering the one that had been hit twice, and just gutting the cargo hold with the single hit. Dozens of Scorpion Space Superiority Fighters swept up the fragments, scanning them to ensure no active weapons, and marking any hull portions with survivors for the Assault Gunships behind them.

Gerard watched stonily as the enemy combatants separated by classes. The corvettes formed little packs, withdrawing from the sudden appearance of the three Minotaurs near the two frigates. The two alien ships fired off a series of missiles, seemingly rattled by the spatial consequences of a nearby warp jump. The point defense turrets on the Minotaurs laugh off the attack, downing the eight in five seconds. All the Minotaurs then spat an entire missile pod worth of warheads back at the two alien vessels, swamping their interception grid, and smashing into their hulls with dozens of specks of light.  
Honestly, Gerard admitted, all those impacts would merely dent a Minotaur's overshield, but these alien's shields were apparently geared to fast moving objects, and the hull of the targeted ship splintered in sections, spewing air and bodies into the void.

Suddenly, the other alien ship spun, and pointed it's nose at the Minotaur squadron. The three ships broke apart, seeking to avoid the unknown weapon. A streak of bluish light spears out, and impacts the leftmost Minotaur. The shield indicator of the vessel dips alarmingly, but considering that he had sent three slightly smaller ships to face them, it was to be expected.

A quick second shot actually popped the bubble of protective energy, but then the projectile spattered off the hull armor.

In reply, the two sister ships turned and pointed their own bows at the cruiser. Around the duel, small specks of light burst from the darkness, showing the fighters whirling between the two sides, and loosing their own ordnance into transports and harassing the corvettes.

Speaking of them, Gerard was quite disappointed. Their laser defenses were about as effective as a Wraith's burst laser, and singed armor rather than endangering the craft.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road. Reorder the formation as soon as possible, in case enemy reinforcements arrive. What's the status of the boarding parties?"

An Adjutant turned in his direction. "Major Perry reports that he has found eighty sentients, some of them the slavers. The slavers did not survive preliminary questioning. I am also to report that the 501st is ready to land on the planet itself, outside the main city."  
Gerard grunted. "Good riddance." He started to walk off the bridge, then turned back. "Oh, and tell the Major to tread carefully, and work slowly. I don't want a stack of deeps* on my desk."

*DPs or Deceased Personnel reports. Basically, why, when, and where did the employee die.


	4. Chapter 4

President White rubbed his face with his hands.

"You attacked a sovereign planet, out of nowhere, and didn't even attempt peaceful contact? Why?"

The woman leaned back in her chair. "Mr. President, this is secure information, and I ask that it not leave this room." Just to keep this flowing smoothly, he nodded. "You do remember the UED? Well, they have fallen, and..."

A/N: History format!

After the disappearance of the UED expeditionary fleet, discontent boiled to the surface. The UED had relied on conscription from the Earth's more populous nations to feed the garrisons on the Martian and Jovian colonies. As revolutionaries started up, the drain on the young men and women, as well as high taxes and other unsavory practices, resulted in complete civil war. When it became obvious that the UED would fall, all the interplanetary warp-capable craft self-destructed, as well as a complete explosive rinse of the more important government databases. As the worlds recovered from the economic and social impact of the Solar War, the Prothean cache on Mars was found.

(Blah, blah, ME story line from here. Mostly.)

"So, you've had infiltrators in their society?" The President had managed to get the gist of the executives' plan.

"Of course. Since the Earthers have managed to join this Citadel, our people can just fit in. However, there are... difficulties."

"Oh? Like what?" The President was honestly confused.

"How has humanity survived in the Koprulu Sector, Mr. President?" The oddball question threw White for a loop. He leaned forwards a bit to answer.

"By the sweat and blood of our ancestors. And the program of- Oh. That."

The woman nodded solemnly, her blond hair falling across her face and forcing her to sweep it back behind her head.

"Yes." She said simply. "The mandatory course of genetic augmentation. On average, our race is larger, taller, and stronger than our cousins. As well as a slight accent problem... But we have planned this for ten years." She stood to leave. "And we have our ways. Good day, Mr. President. I'll see you tonight."

Scene break, peeps.

Commodore DeGaulle was standing on the bridge of his flagship. The lumpy forms of the troop transports hovered on the table in front of him, dripping streams of much smaller dots. Intellectually, he knew they were gunships carrying men, and "bricks*" carrying armored vehicle platoons.

He turned at the approach of another person.

"Reminds me of Foran." Gerard looked over at the man, a Lieutenant by his emblem.

"Eh?" Gerard had heard of the siege, because it was spoken of in the same breath of Gettysburg. It had been the turning point in the war, the first offensive Coalition operation.

"I was in the reclamation fleet, ensign at the time, and had just been conscripted into a gunnery position. Man, you should have seen it. It seemed like there was a solid cover of ships, all spitting out dropships."

Scene break. Again.

The single port on the pirate lair was already in chaos while the first gunships hit the deck, shields flaring as lasers caressed the concentrated plasma shells. The armor glinted in the waning light, showing it's colors proudly. When the landing struts extended, after the gunships swooped to a stop, the ramp was already dropping. The second the struts pressed into the crafts' bellies, avenging angels swooped out, barking across radio channels.

"Private, clear that hut!" "Be careful, these look rickety." "Hostile light infantry!"

One of the big successes of the Confederacy had been the Tactical Network, allowing all soldiers on the battlefield to know where the enemies were.

The Hybrid Wars had taken this to a whole new level. Now, protoss knowledge of psionics and cybernetics had allowed the inplementation of a whole new system. Now, each Marine had a hard wired link to the overall situation, along with a visor that helpfully highlighted hostile forces, and a refined auto-aiming system.

Now, this was compared to the hand-eye coordination of the various mercenary and slaver soldiers. Which leaves no comparison.

POV break

The growl of engines echoed throughout the hold, as three Goliath walkers did their best to edge into a Brick. The drivers of the three walkers already in there were even starting to complain at the wait, to the annoyance of the Marines and other personnel on the hangar deck.

Private Holmes was quite upset also, but for a different reason.

"They've changed my playlist! Of course it's a big deal!" His squad didn't agree with him, though.

"Ah, quit whining. Although, I noticed that even my songs had been messed with." Holmes waited for her to continue, but she didn't. Then the entire squad had to duck a Goliath's foot as it finally occupied the last open space.

"So, what are these aliens gonna be like?" A 501st Marine asked from the rear of the transport.

"From what I heard, this den has at least five types of aliens, and they're all humanoid. There's four eyed raisins, a metal exoskeletonized thing, blue women with tentacles for hair, overgrown lizards with weak regeneration, descendants of Earth (the speaker sneered that last one, memories of the UED were still around), and freaky looking bipedal animals. Shields are normal, but weaker than ours."

The speaker was cut off by the triple tone of imminent launch, then the sound of clamps disengaging.

On the Surface

Firebase Zulu

The Eruption Siege Tank. The latest in a long line of transforming tank/artillery hybrids. Due to the predilection of Terran commanders to only utilize the more powerful siege mode, it was even more of a focus. Now firing adaptable Maelstrom rounds, out of a longer barrel, the siege mode of the vehicles was even more lethal.

Holmes watched as another volley of twenty rounds was fired, the concussion bending grass for thirty feet around the muzzles. Switching to thermal imaging, he followed the ordnance by the heat streak they left behind, and even managed to see one of the shots airburst above the main road of the slaver port.

Then he turned back to his platoon, where they would move into the city tomorrow.


End file.
